What Makes a Man
by Karri
Summary: Consolidating accounts; not a new story! John's mom consoles him after his big brother teases him.


"What's the matter, John? Aren't you having fun?"

John Sheppard responded to his mother's gentle question by turning his head away. If he didn't look at her, then he could pretend she wasn't there and wouldn't have to answer her questions. So John stared resolutely at the thin metal wall backing an amusement park ride. He wasn't sure which one, beyond that it was the one next to the Haunted House.

"John?" There was a crunch of gravel as his mom knelt beside him and then kind fingers combed through his hair, but John just turned his body away to face the backing wall, as well. His mom's hand dropped to his back, rubbing gentle circles. "It's alright, baby, you can tell me what's wrong."

"I'm _not_a baby!" John protested, stiffening defensively. His mom's soft caress abruptly stilled. Feeling her pull back slightly, John's bravado melted swiftly away and he dropped his head, eyes settling on a spot of peeling paint. Little fingers chipped away more flakes and his mom's hand resumed its tender ministrations.

"Of course you're not a baby," his mom assured. "You've grown into a big boy, haven't you?"

John nodded solemnly, but his gaze remained fixed.

"Did someone call you a baby? Is that what made you sad?" his mom inquired sagely.

John nodded again, his head drooping lower. His finger worked more persistently at the chipping paint as he waited for him mom to say something, but after several seconds patience silence, he volunteered, in a dejected whisper, "Graham said I'm baby cause I got scared and the Haunted House man had to come and get us and let us back out the front and he wouldn't give Graham back his ticket."

He heard his mom sigh softly and wondered if his brother would get in trouble. She had told Graham step out of line if they got to the front before she returned from getting their sodas. Instead, his brother had dragged John into Haunted House with him.

An arm wrapped around him and gently pulled him back to sit on her thigh. "You've been to haunted houses with your brother before and you were very brave."

John nodded dejectedly.

"Was there something in particular that scared you in this one?" His mom's fingers resumed combing through his hair comfortingly as John responded to her question by twisting around to bury his head against her shoulder.

"There was a clown," he admitted, the tears in his voice muffled by the fabric of her soft sweater.

"Oh, John!" she softly exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. "I'm so sorry!"

John clung to her tightly. Ever since the hospital he'd been terrified of clowns. Graham thought it was silly, but his mom said it wasn't. Still… "I didn't mean to be a baby."

"Being scared doesn't make you a baby, John," his mom soothed, rocking gently. "Big boys like Graham and even grown ups like me and your dad get scared sometimes, too."

John twisted his head enough to see her face as she craned to her head down toward him. He gazed up dubiously. "Really?" he whispered. "You and dad really get scared sometimes?"

Mom nodded solemnly. "When you were in the hospital, we were really scared, so scared I cried. Don't you remember?"

John's small brow furrowed. A lot of his memories of the hospital were blurry and muddled – cause his fever was so high, his mom had told him once – but he sort of remembered his mom crying; well, not crying exactly, but her eyes all puffy and red like she had been while he was sleeping. He picked at his shirt buttons as he pondered whether that kind of scared was the same as being afraid of clowns.

His mom seemed to read his mind and whispered in his ear, "Everyone is afraid of something, John. The important thing is to not let the fear stop you from enjoying life."

John nodded, though he wasn't sure he fully understood what she meant.

"So…," she continued, "what do you say we go see what the Haunted House looks like from the top of the Ferris Wheel?"

John grinned. He _loved _the Ferris Wheel! He liked to hold his arms out and pretend he was flying, and nothing seemed scary or sad then.

"Whoa! Slow down there, big guy!" his mom chided as John hopped off her thigh excitedly and pulled her hand in the right hand so fast that she tripped over her feet as she tried to rise. "It's not going to vanish before we get there," she added laughingly, but she sobered as John abruptly halted and turned toward, large pensive eyes fixing on her soberly.

"Can we go through the Haunted House first?" he asked tentatively.

His mom studied him for a moment, before answering, "I already know you're my big brave boy, John. Are you sure you wanted to go through the Haunted House?"

John's head drooped nervously, but he nodded all the same. "I like haunted houses, and the man said there's only one clown right at the front, and I don't want my scared to keep me from having fun in the rest of it," he answered sagely.

John thought his mom might say no as she gazed down at him with an unreadable look at his face, but then she cupped his cheek with her free hand, her thumb softly caressing his cheek. "Okay, John."

The end.


End file.
